


count me as your friend

by bookhobbit



Series: The Magic Circle [2]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhobbit/pseuds/bookhobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Nameless King is abruptly summoned from his office, reunites with some old acquaintances, and makes an arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	count me as your friend

**Author's Note:**

> NOW BEGINS THE FIC SPAM. I'm sorry, I'm going to be putting up, like, a fic a day, because I'm working on finishing all my wips and fragments so I can start on the sequels to the days of our years. Please bear with me in this trying time. I am so sorry.
> 
> I continue to write out of sequence. This is earlier than most if not all of the others. After I've finished spamming fic I'll go back and reorder these so that they're in chronological sequence again.
> 
> OH I forgot to say. Unearthed-hope, the name I mean, is Moll's brainwave. She wrote about it in chapter five of her drabble series. Here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4653942/chapters/10616163

October 1817

 

The Nameless King, while sitting in his office poring over some trade agreements, felt a most peculiar lurch in his stomach, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was no longer in chamber. Instead, he was in a small dark room with a small dark man. The room was lit by candles, and the man by an expression of extreme surprize.

“You are not a fairy,” said the man at last.

“No indeed,” said the King.

“Were you not… I do beg your pardon if I give offense, but did you not bring Lady Emma Pole to Starecross?”

“Yes,” said the King, looking the man up and down. He was dressed in respectable clothes of good quality that had been carefully made over, as if he had been rich and was not lately so, or had enough money to take care of himself but was accustomed to making it stretch. He had large eyes and a rather delicate build, and he was fidgeting nervously as he looked at the King. He looked familiar, in fact. Yes…

“You were the madhouse-keeper,” he said. “The one who kept talking about roses.”

The man blushed. “I’m afraid so,” he confessed. “You see, I was much interested in your enchantment.”

There was a long pause.

“I take it,” said the man at last, “That you are now disenchanted?”

The King could not stop himself. He laughed.

The man’s name, it developed, was Segundus. He was a friend of Mrs Arabella Strange, and it seemed that he had wished to summon the former king of Lost-hope to ask him how to break the enchantment on Mr Strange.

“For you see,” he said, “She is very sorrowful without him and thinks of him often.” Segundus made a wry face. “I expect you think me very foolish, but I had hoped to have him back for the anniversary of their parting. It is in a month, you know, and that is why her spirits are so low.”

“Your intentions, at least, were admirable,” said the King.

“I fear I have done you a great offense in my haste,” said Segundus. “I am extremely sorry.”

“You were not to know that the spell would call me,” said the King politely. “Yet I hope that in the future you will remember this and take care when summoning fairies. My people tell me that when your magicians were in their heyday, they were snatched out of their homes without a moment’s notice.”

“They do not have the means to resist the spell?” said Segundus, seeming surprized.

“I do not believe so.”

“I can certainly see that would be sufficient to fill one with an aggrieved spirit,” said Segundus, thoughtfully. “I had never considered it from that angle.” He said under his breath, apparently not to the King, “I suppose Mr Norrell did some good after all.”

The King raised his eyebrows. “You are a follower of Mr Norrell’s?”

“Oh! no! Rather the reverse,” said Segundus, making a face. This endeared him somewhat to the King.

“Well,” said the King, “I certainly am glad if I gave you a new perspective.”

“Quite,” said Segundus. He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t suppose - ” He stopped. “No, that is a ridiculous thought. I am sure you are very busy. No.”

“I beg your pardon?” The King raised his eyebrows. “Did you have something to ask?”

“it is only - ” Segundus blushed. “Well, you see, I run a school. Or I will. For magicians, you see. And I - well, so little is known about fairies and from what you say it seems as if there has been much miscommunication and misunderstanding between the two races. And so I was wondering if you could, perhaps, come and talk to me occasionally. On whatever topic you think beneficial. Then I could pass your words on to the students. But I am sure your days are full.”

The King considered this. He said slowly, “It is true that one of my intentions is to better relations between humans and fairies.” He paused for a long moment. “Yes,” he said, “I think I may consent to talk to you at least once more. At a prearranged time. On one condition.”

“Only name it, sir,” said Segundus, leaning forward.

“I wish you to arrange for me to speak to Lady Pole.”

Segundus opened his eyes very wide. “But my dear sir, of course you may!” he exclaimed. “This very day, if you like! For did I not say? She is still here at Starecross.”

-

The King agreed to meet Mr Segundus in a week’s time at the same hour. He explained that he did not wish to see Miss Wintertowne on such short notice, as he had no time to prepare. However, he regretted the decision, for he spent most of the week fretting.

His secretary, Gustav, noticed almost immediately.* In the interest of honesty it must be confessed that, as fairies were not the best at organization, Gustav’s chief duties consisted of fetching things that the King needed, explaining anything about fairies or Faerie that confused the King, and making sure he did not become too distressed.

“I see you are in poor spirits, grandfather!” said Gustav that next afternoon.  

“It is nothing,” replied the King. “I am merely anticipating a reunion.”

But Gustav would not be put off, and insisted upon singing a song for the King, which at least had the effect of distracting him from his complaint. By fairy standards, Gustav had an excellent voice. But his range tended to dip and soar into places the King’s human ear could not follow, and so the effect was rather eerie.

By the end of it, the King felt quite prepared to continue with his work. Gustav made him tea, which the King felt was very thoughtful.

The rest of the week seemed to crawl by, even through the numerous political disasters which obliged the King to negotiate between various minor personages of fairy royalty. By the end of it, he could not wait till the appointed hour, but appeared at Starecross nearly two hours early.

This was very poor manners, so he decided to wander the grounds for a time.

While the King was stopping to admire some wildflowers growing beside a tree, a shirtless, barefoot man came streaking out across the lawn and careened into him.

“I beg your pardon,” said the King.

“No offense meant, your majesty,” said the man, helping him to his feet and brushing him off. The King realize his arms and chest were blue with strange symbols.

“You are the man with the prophecy,” he said in astonishment. “I thought you were dead!”

“So I was,” said the man. “Vinculus, if you’ve forgotten. And now I live.” He gave a small bow, as if he had just completed some particularly neat magic trick.

“How?”

“Ah, well!” said Vinculus. “That is the question of the hour. They are all working very hard to decipher it. I see you are a king in your own right.” He surveyed the King’s fine rainment with satisfaction. “And very well-dressed.”

The King did not feel able to extend the same compliment to a man standing before him in grubby, worn-out breeches and little else. He said, “Thank you,” he instead. “I - am glad you are alive. I no longer like to see any living thing hurt.”

“And I am glad to see your destiny fulfilled. Did I not tell you?”

“You did. I cannot fault your honesty nor your accuracy.”

Vinculus bowed again.

There came a shout from across the lawn, and a black-clad figure appeared on the horizon. Vinculus snorted. “I am pursued,” he said.

“What? By who?”

“My Reader. A tyrant. He wants me to trim my beard.” Vinculus sniffed. “After I have spent years cultivating it. I said as much to him and he said it was time to prune it. A tyrant, I say.”

The King looked at Vinculus’s beard, which was exceedingly long and untidy. “I see,” he said, resorting again to politeness. “Well, I wish you luck.”

“And I you. Come and see me again, King! I do not have many visitors, much less royal ones.” Vinculus hared off, leaving the King to make his way inside.

Much to his own surprize, he found he might return after all. After so long feeling as though his experience had been an awful dream, it had felt strangely validating to be reminded that his life had not been the only one touched by the fairy.

This reminded him of the purpose of his visit, and so he went inside the hall.

The school was well-appointed, even more cheerful and welcoming than it had been when he had visited it before. He was shewn to a drawing-room off the main hallway. A few moments later, Lady Pole entered.

They stood for a minute, looking at each other. Then Lady Pole flung her arms around him and embraced him.

“Stephen!” she said. “You are alive! When Mr Segundus told me I could scarecely believe it. I thought he had killed you.”

“He did not go so far,” said the King. He did not move to embrace her in turn; the habits of a lifetime could not so easily be overcome. But she seemed to understand. She stepped back and looked him over.

“I hope you are well, Lady Pole.”

“Please. Miss Wintertowne, if you would. Or perhaps Emma. We have certainly been through enough to justify intimate terms of address.”

“Miss Wintertowne. In that case, I am no longer Stephen. I have cast off my name. I am simply the Nameless King now.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “A king!” she said, gesturing at the chair and sitting down. “You must tell me about it.”

“If you will tell me about why you are here - and why you are now Miss Wintertowne again.”

“But of course I will. Have some tea.”

The King did. As he drank, he told her of the Gentleman’s defeat, of his temporary power, of his arrival at Lost-hope to find that it was now his own. He told her of Lost-hope itself and how he had transformed it from a place of death and despair to a verdant garden, full of life and joy.

When he had finished, Emma sighed. “I am so very glad that you are here. After my curse - our curse, I suppose - was broken, I thought you and the fairy had killed each other. I mourned, although I had to do it silently. Mr Segundus, however, was very helpful.”

“I am sure,” said the King. “And how did you come to take your own name back?”

“That is a process. Sir Walter and I are going to take our leave of each other.” Emma took a sip of her tea. “I find that I cannot abide the thought of being tied to another man after escaping one. So I am in the process of requesting a deed of private separation. I hope for a divorce, although I do not expect he has the grounds.”

“And you have spoken to him?”

“Not yet. I want to have everything ready first.” She smiled. “And then I shall be my own woman. I shall stay here and teach. I find that I like it.”

“And I am sure you do it well. Mr Segundus wants my help with human-fairy relations.”

“Oh! You should help him, St - your majesty, I am sorry. If you are willing. I mean to say, I myself know little of fairies save for my experience, so I feel very bitter towards them. But from what you tell me they cannot be all bad. So perhaps you could help.”

“Is he a good gentleman? Mr Segundus?”

“An excellent one,” said Emma firmly. “He would not mistreat you, sir. Should he do any thing that made you uncomfortable, it would be through error, and he would correct himself if you asked. I know that from experience.”

The King nodded. “Then maybe I will. If we are to have change it must start with the children.” He glanced at the clock, and realized it has been nearly two hours. “I am afraid that, for now, I must return.”

“You will come back?”

“I will be returning in a few days to speak to Mr Segundus. He kindly agreed to let me speak to you first. After our meeting I can return and come and visit with you again, if you want.”

“Of course I do.” Emma stood and offered him her hand. He shook it and began to leave.

“Your majesty?” said Emma suddenly.

“Yes?” The King turned.

“What is your kingdom called, now that it is no longer a place of despair?”

“It is called Unearthed-hope.”

Emma smiled. “Good,” she said. “Then go back to Unearthed-hope, sir, but come back to see me soon. Now that I know you are alive, I have a great deal to talk to you about.”

“And I you.” The King bowed, and went through the mirror to his new home.

-

*It may be noted that the King’s secretary was the fairy who had first met him when he had come to Unearthed-hope. This fairy preferred to be known as Gustav, which the King felt was a most unfairylike name. The Nameless King, however, was not a very English name, and so he never mentioned it.


End file.
